End of My World
by Shylar
Summary: The NCIS team travel to Chicago to solve the murder of a Lieutenant, while the ER staff struggle to save his orphaned daughter, Callie. When Callie brings the two teams together all kinds of things happen. Some romances are formed.


Starts in ER Season 8 and NCIS Season 5. Yes I realise that these seasons are set in different years but that's not the point, got it? Good.

Chicago was covered in a miserable grey, rain drifting down and showering everything with a damp covering. The roads were slippery but the rain wasn't hard enough to slow the fast-paced traffic with places to go and people to see, mostly work related. A green sedan, partway along the crowded M1, was moving slowly through the hustle, the windows fogging up periodically from the warmth inside. Lieutenant James Berrett sat in the driver's seat, engaged in a friendly argument with his 14 year old daughter, Callie, over whose turn it was to cook dinner. James was positive he'd cooked the night before, making it Callie's turn tonight, but naturally his teenager daughter was adamant that it wasn't her turn.

"No, but you see, it's Tuesday, and I _never_ cook on Tuesdays, dad." She insisted. James laughed, amused by her logic.

"That's a good one." Chuckled the Lieutenant, filing it away for future reference. "But you still have to cook. You didn't do it last night, hence, your turn tonight." His daughter groaned.

"Dad, please, I have debating after school today so I won't be back until, like, five." James felt his resolve weakening.

"If I let you off tonight" He began, cut off by a car swerving abruptly into his lane. "Shit!" He swore, slamming on the breaks in an attempt to avoid the car. The sedan smashed into it, the rain and lack of warning making it impossible to stop in time, and careened off to the side, swiping into a car in the next lane. James, although in pain himself, glanced at his daughter who was wide-eyed and pale with fear but otherwise unharmed. Relief flooded through him for the split second before the traffic behind them, unable to stop, piled into the three car wreck and forced the sedan to roll and crush against the barrier. James fought to remain conscious as his pain racked body, trapped in the crumpled car, attempted to convulse, stopped by the steering wheel that jutted into his side.

"Callie!" He choked, blood filling his mouth and garbling his words. His daughter was still, covered in blood and an unnatural shade of white. Terrified, he struggled to reach her, knowing it would be the last thing he would do. His shaking hand stretched out, paused, and then fell, his strength drained with his blood that gushed from several wounds. The Lieutenant's eyes flickered then closed.

***

Frank scowled as a crackling sound indicated an incoming call from the paramedics.

"County ER." He snapped, putting his donut down but talking with his mouth full anyway.

"There's been a massive pileup on the M1, four dead so far. How many can you take?" a frantic paramedic practically shouted down the line. Frank pulled away from the mic, partly to ask Kerry and partly to save his hearing.

"Dr. Weaver, huge car crash. Paramedics want to know how many we can take." He said.

"Three major, eight minor." Sighed Kerry. "What's the ETA?"

"We can take three majors, and eight minors. What's your ETA?" Frank repeated in his dull, robotic tone. "They say five minutes." He shouted out as the doctor limped away to round up her crew. She raised a hand to indicate she heard him. "Ungrateful frigging doctors." The ex-cop grumbled, returning to his donut.

"Abby! Luka! Susan!' Kerry screeched, her voice edged with panic as she contemplated the enormous task before them. The two doctors and nurse appeared before her, expressions of confusion and irritation on their faces.

"What is it, Kerry? I've got a drunk who needs an appendectomy in 2." Susan whined, glancing at her watch.

"You've got a lot more than that. We've got a multiple MVA coming in, ETA 5 minutes. I said three majors and eight minors but we all know how paramedics count." Gushed Kerry, as she led the way to the ambulance bay. "Abby can you set up Trauma 1 and 2 and clear any non-critical patients. We're gonna need all monitored beds." The competent nurse nodded and bolted away, leaving her two colleagues to the irritable chief's mercy.

***

Vague noises penetrated the darkness, Callie's head racked with sharp pain at every sound. She was cold and in pain, more pain than she thought it was possible to be in. Except her legs; they felt nothing. Callie wasn't sure which was worse, the agonizing pain or the terrifying numbness. The click of a door opening made Callie whimper in pain as her head felt like it was going to explode. She wished it would, so the pain would stop. Someone fiddled with something on her left and the pain dulled slowly to a tolerable level.

"Hello, squeeze my hand if you can hear me, honey." The person said, placing their hand in Callie's. It felt like an age, and enormous effort, but the teen finally managed to get her hand to close around the stranger's and apply a slight pressure that she hoped would be recognized as a squeeze.

"Lovely, that's brilliant. Now, you're in a hospital and I've just given you some more pain medication. In a minute you'll feel sleepy then when you wake up again we can have a chat." Callie was able to distinguish the voice as female, but offering any kind of response was beyond her. So much for being sleepy in a minute, it was all Callie could do to stay awake until the end of the little speech. A shiver shot through her body and a slight pressure was placed on her that warmed her a little. It was a few seconds before her foggy brain realised that another blanket had been draped over her. Too exhausted to give anything another thought, the girl let her mind drift and welcomed the painless freedom of unconsciousness.

***

"Score!" Cheered Tony, a grin spreading across his face as the scrunched up piece of paper landed in McGee's bin.

"Must you be so immature, Tony?" Asked the resident assassin, Ziva.

"It's not immature, Ziva, I'm honing my skills." He explained, ignoring the death glare McGee gave him as he focused on his…no, not his…Ziva.

"I'm sure our newly dead marine is grateful you're skills are honed. Gear up." Gibbs whacked his long-serving agent over the back of his head, a form of tough love that belied the affection the team leader had for his crew.

"On it, boss." Tony scowled at Ziva for not warning him of their boss's approach and rubbed his head with one hand, reaching for his bag with the other.

"Where are we headed?" Ziva asked as she holstered her numerous guns.

"The first rule of fight club-" began Tony, a smirk appearing on his face.

"This is not your little fight club, Tony!" Snapped Ziva, torn between amusement and irritation.

"Chicago." Gibbs said before Tony could open his mouth with a come back. "We have a dead lieutenant and I think his orphaned daughter would like some answers if she survives." That shut them up; the entire team fell silent at the depressing news.

"What happened?" Ziva voiced the question the other two wanted to know but were too chicken to ask.

"Massive pile up." Said Gibbs shortly.

"That doesn't sound like murder." Tony said without thinking and immediately looked regretful.

"No, but the 5 bullets in our lieutenant makes me think someone wanted to be sure he was dead."

**So, what do you think??? Towards the end I kind of lost the grip on Tony and Ziva, which is why I'm finishing the chapter here when I intended to go on longer, but I need to have a little break from it but I wanna know what people think. Hence it's up. But seriously, reviews would be nice. **


End file.
